The Girls and I: A Veracious History

She seemed to know by instinct that there was something wrong. She glanced up and saw our heads all looking over the railing.

'What is it?' she said. 'Are you all there, dears?'

Nurse and we three looked at each other. It was no use hiding it. So we went on downstairs to the hall.

'It's nothing really wrong, mums, darling,' I said. 'It's only – ' but nurse interrupted me.

'It's Miss Warwick and Miss Serena, ma'am, haven't come in yet,' she said. 'We hoped it was them when the bell rang.'

Mother looked bewildered.

'Anne and Serry,' she said. 'What do you mean? Didn't they go to the dancing with the rest of you?'

'Yes, of course; they've been in since then,' said Hebe. 'Miss Stirling brought us all to the door. But they've gone out again, we're afraid;' and seeing mother looking more and more puzzled, she turned to Maud. 'You tell mums, Maud,' she said. 'You know most.'

Mother sat down on a chair in the hall. She seemed quite shaky and frightened. Nurse ran off to get a glass of water, and Maud told her all we knew or guessed in her quiet little particular way. She told all– about the ornament that had been found, and everything – it was no use hiding anything.

'Oh,' said poor mums at the end, 'I do wish gran had never thought of lending me his diamonds,' and she gave a great sigh. 'But after all,' she went on, 'I don't think we need be very frightened, though it was exceedingly, really very wrong of Anne to go, whatever her motive was. I only hope the Barrys sent some one with them to these cousins of theirs; they must have thought it extraordinary for two little girls to be out alone so late.'

Still, on the whole, she did not seem so very frightened now. She drank the water nurse brought, and went into the library, where the lamp was lit, and the fire burning cheerfully.

'Barstow will be back immediately, no doubt?' she said to nurse.

'He'll be as quick as he can, I'm sure,' said nurse. 'But perhaps – if he has gone on to the other house – it may be some little time.'

At that moment, however, we heard the area bell ring, and almost immediately Barstow appeared. His face was rather red, and he seemed out of breath – poor Barstow is getting pretty fat.

'Are they back?' he exclaimed. Then seeing mother, 'I beg your pardon, ma'am. I just ran in to see if the young ladies were returned, for they've not been at Mrs. Barry's – no one there has heard anything of them. I got the address of the other lady's – Lady Nearn's – '

'Oh yes,' Hebe and I interrupted; 'that's the name.'

– 'Just in case,' Barstow continued, 'they hadn't come in. But I really begin to think we're on the wrong tack. Perhaps Miss Anne has only gone to some shop, and it seemed making such a hue and cry to go round to another house, and not of our own acquaintances, you see, ma'am,' he went on, 'and asking for the young ladies. I quite hoped to find they were home.'

Mother considered. She kept her presence of mind, but I could see she was growing really frightened.

'Could they have gone to get cakes for tea, for a surprise,' she said suddenly, 'and have lost their way coming back? There's that German shop in – Street, where there are such nice cakes.'

It was possible, but after all – Street was not very far off, and Anne had sense enough to ask the way. And as the minutes went on, and no ring came to the bell, we all looked at each other in increasing trouble.

'You'd better go to Lady Nearn's, Barstow,' said mums at last, 'though it seems such a mere chance. How could they have known what house it was, scarcely having heard the name, and certainly not having been told the number!'

That was what we all thought.

But Barstow was off – like a shot, I was going to say, but it wouldn't be a very good description, – as like a shot as a stout elderly butler could be, we'll say.

And poor mums began walking up and down the room, squeezing her hands together in a way she has when she's awfully worried.

'If only Alan were at home,' I heard her say. 'Oh dear! is it a punishment to me for having made too much of the loss of that unlucky brooch? It would seem less, far less than nothing, in comparison with any harm to the children. Oh, if only Anne were less thoughtless and impulsive, what a comfort it would be!'

And I must say, when I saw the poor, dear little thing – I can't help calling mums a little thing sometimes, though of course she's twice as tall as I am, but she's so sweet and soft, and seems to need to be taken care of – when I saw her, I say, so dreadfully upset, it was all I could do not to feel very angry with Anne; and yet, you understand, till I could see with my own eyes that she and Serry were all right, I didn't dare to feel angry.

And all sorts of things began to come into my head, and I am sure they were in mother's already. The one that seemed the plainest was that they had been run over: the streets are not at all well lighted about where we live; there are no shops, and the London gas is horribly dull. Still, it wasn't likely that they'd both been run over and hurt so badly that they couldn't speak to tell who they were or where they lived. There was some comfort in that. But – I looked at the library clock, which always keeps good time: father sees to it himself – it was getting on for two hours since they had been out! Where could they be?

Suddenly there came a ring at the bell – rather a sharp ring – and as Alfred flew to open the door, we heard the sort of little bustle that there always is if it is a carriage or cab arriving – tiny clickings of the harness and the coachman's voice. Yes, it was a carriage. We ran out into the hall and saw a footman in a buff greatcoat standing on the steps, up which came two little dark figures, who ran in past him. Then the door was shut, the carriage drove off, and we saw that it was Anne and Serry.

'Oh, children! oh, Anne!' cried mother. 'Where have you been?'

And we all called out in different voice, 'Oh, Anne! oh, Serry!'

But before she said anything else Anne rushed up to mother.

'Oh, mums, it wasn't it after all. It was a star with a pearl in the middle. I was so disappointed!'

That shows how silly Anne is. She had planned, you know, to say nothing about it to mother, and then she bursts out as if mums had sent her to find out about it! Indeed, for that matter, it was only thanks to clever little Maud that any of us knew where they had been, or had any idea rather. For as to knowing, we had not known; we had only guessed.

'Then you were there, after all,' said Maud. 'I thought so.'

'But how did you get the address without going to the Barrys for it?' said Hebe. 'We sent there. Barstow went himself. Oh, Anne, you have frightened us so, especially poor darling mums!'

Then at last Anne and Serry began to look rather ashamed of themselves. Mother, after the first exclamation, had not spoken. She went back into the library, looking whiter than before almost, and I felt too disgusted with Anne's thoughtlessness to ask any questions. Still, I was very curious to know all about it, and so were we all.

Anne followed mums into the library – she was really frightened by this time, I think.

'Tell me all about it,' said mother.

So they did – Anne first, of course, and Serena putting in her word now and then. It was just as we had thought about the first part of it. They had gone to find out about the brooch. Rodney Square wasn't far off, and Anne was sure she knew the way there, and would be back directly. But after all, it wasn't so easy to find as she expected. It makes a great difference when it's dark – the turnings are so like each other, especially where there are no shops. They did get to Rodney Square at last, but they must have gone a very roundabout way, and when they were there, there was a new difficulty: they knew the Barrys' house by sight, or they thought they did, but they didn't know the number, only that it was a corner one. They came to one corner, one that looked something like it, and Anne thought they'd better try. So they went up the steps and rang the bell, and a footman opened.

'Does Mrs. Barry live here?' asked Anne.

'No,' he said,' that's not our name.' But he must have been good-natured, for he went on to say he'd get the red book if they liked, and look for it.

'Bury – was that the name?' he said when he had got the book.

'Barry,' Anne was just going to say, when a new thought struck her. It was no good going to two houses when she might get the information she wanted at one. 'It isn't really Mrs. Barry's house I need,' she said. 'I was only going to ask there for another address – Lady Nern, or some name like that.'

'Oh,' said the man, 'Lady Nearn's! – that's next door, miss. I don't need to look it up.'

They thanked him and set off again, thinking they had been very lucky, though I thought if Anne had remembered the name as close as that, she might have looked it up in our own red book at home before starting.

They rang again next door, and again a footman opened; but he wasn't so good-natured as the other, and he was stupid too.

'Is Lady Nearn at home? Can I see her?' asked Anne quite coolly. Anne is as cool as anything when she's full of some idea. Nothing puts her out or frightens her.

It was rather dark, and of course no one expects little ladies to be walking about alone so late. So it wasn't much wonder the man thought they were errand girls, or beggars of some kind possibly.

'No,' he said, 'my lady's not at home; and if she was she wouldn't be to no tiresome children like you.' (We made Anne and Serry tell us exactly all that was said.) 'She leaves word if she's expecting any of her school brats, but she's said nothing this time, so it's no use your teasing.'

If I'd been Anne I'd have been in a fury, but Serry said she didn't seem to mind.